She's Come Undone
by Forsythia Lux
Summary: [Temari x Itachi] When the citizens of Suna revolt, the very fabric of ninja existence is threatened. In order to protect her way of life, Temari must side with the people she vowed to kill, Akatsuki, while disregarding the repercussions.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto, or any other copyrighted things

Title: _She's Come Undone_

Rating: T

Synopsis: When the citizens of Suna revolt, the very fabric of ninja existence is threatened. In order to protect her way of life, Temari must side with the very people she vowed to kill, Akatsuki, while disregarding the repercussions.

Pairings: Itachi X Temari

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**Prologue: 'God Save The Kage'**

_"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable." -John F. Kennedy, In a speech at the White House, 1962_

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I cannot turn away; my dark, garnet eyes fixated on the guillotine, it's blood-splattered blade reflecting the mid-afternoon sun. In the surrounding area, a crowd has gathered; anxiously waiting for the gruesome spectacle. Of course, I have come here for an entirely different purpose; politics. The same politics that led to this uprising in the first place.

"If your father had still been in power, this situation would have never gone this far," mused the spectator beside me. In an uncharacteristic move, I keep my lips tightly shut; refusing to respond with the slightest quip. I wouldn't want to contribute to the anarchy, now would I? Though, I must admit, the man has a point. My father would've never let the Revolutionaries drag things out to such extremes; he'd have them extinguished before such ideals could be fantasized. In a way, I debate whether my father had the right idea.

"Good afternoon, madame. Such lovely weather; might you agree?" To be honest, It's a few clouds short of an overcast; but I give the gentleman credit for having the nerve to strike up a conversation. "Of course." As my mouth forms a polite smile, I pretend to be on my way, but my right hand is stopped by an urgent pull. "You're not like the others," The bystander speaks; I can hear his voice cracking. "In more ways than you can imagine..." Pushing my way through the crowd; I purposely make sure I'm far from the gentleman's peripheral. There's too much at stake for leisure; I need to get my priorities straight.

As I continue maneuvering to the front of the crowd, I feel a light tug at the edge of my sari. It was a little girl. "Miss, I'm lost," Her voice quivers; her eyes damp with tears. Kneeling down, I make myself level with the girl's height. "Dear, it's alright; I'll help you find your mother," I promise, trying my best to comfort her. "You must be thirsty," Her tiny head nods, and I quickly unfasten the canteen worn around my neck. Handing her the drink, as the girl lifts it up for a sip, a strong determined hand knocks the plastic container to the ground. Water drips down the cobblestone, like blood, staining the sand.

At first the girl winces, but as she looks up at the woman who'd assaulted the canteen, her wet eyes widen with recognition. "Mommy!" The woman quickly brings her daughter into a tight embrace, holding the girl while narrowing her eyes in my direction. "I...I know who you are, what you're capable of. I bet that was poison," Her voice was sharp and malicious, on par with a commanding Jonin. "You'll be next," Were her final words.

Doesn't she think I've already realized my fate? If only my dear brother could have caught on as quickly as I did. Now look at the mess he's caught up in. Some say it was unavoidable, just look at history, but I blame ignorance. After all, it is the cause of all the world's evils.

"Attention!" The crowd settles as the executioner brings out the political prisoner. The prisoner looks down, lacking the courage to face the crowd; the very people he once vowed to protect. Not that he would recognize me. During these past few months I've changed; most likely for the worst.

The executioner led the prisoner up the pedestal to the awaiting guillotine, created for this exact purpose centuries ago. "Any last words?" The executioner asks, as if the prisoner had written out a parting speech. "Every man is guilty for all the good he didn't do," the prisoner quoted Voltaire, one of his favorites. It's a simple farewell, but the prisoner hates fuss, I know him all too well; after all, we share the same blood. The same blood the saturated the guillotine's blades, which fell in a matter of seconds.

Some view him as a martyr; others, the catalyst needed for change. But you wanna know my opinion? How'about I show you?

With the agility only a highly trained ninja could possess, I materialized onto the platform, still freshly drenching in my own brother's blood. "What is the meaning of this?" Shouted the executioner, while raising his right hand, that held a regal, out of date sword. With a swift kick, I remove the weapon from his grasp and bring it to my own; in the distance the crowd gasps.

"What are you doing?" The executioner asks, desperately trying to avoid the weapon. My lips form a sadistic smile. "Finishing what you've started," With a grin still on my face, I change the direction of the sword, impaling the blade into my very chest.

_If only death were the end..._

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	2. No One Is Innocent

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or any other copyrighted stuff (Like that Chuck Palanuik reference)

Thanks for the Support!

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**  
Chapter One: No-One Is Innocent**

_That's the way things come clear. All of a sudden. And then you realize how obvious they've been all along.  
Madeleine L'Engle, The Arm of the Starfish, 1965_

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I'm alive, that's for certain. And cold, also.

Opening my eyes, I find myself sprawled across a queen sized bed. Staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, I examine the large spiderweb cracks formed in it's tiles. Directly above, a vent circulated brisk, fresh air throughout the room. _Central air-conditioning_; a luxury us dessert dwellers can never get enough of.

Wait, why isn't there a gaping wound in my chest? Pulling up the covers, which I am certain are Egyptian cotton, I spot no bandages, not a scratch on me. How is that possible? I stabbed myself, I took a god-damn sword and lodged it into my chest!

Unless _they_ saved me. Out of spite; of course, I couldn't have just ended my misery right then and there; _they_ needed to find some justice out of the situation. I bet they have the _'National Razor' _right outside, waiting for me. I'll end up next to my brother, served on a silver platter; head first.

"Would you care for some tea?" What a generous way to interrupt my train of thought. Startled, I sink back into the mountain of down pillows and soft linens, inching my body up against the baroque headboard. "Well?" His voice hangs, and my mind slowly registers the man's identity.

_"Uchiha Itachi?"_ He nods in acknowledgment. Why do I have a feeling this might be one of those offers I shouldn't refuse? "Uh, sure. Two sugars, if you don't mind." Itachi doesn't respond, and seconds later I hear the click of a door; confirming that he'd left the room. I wonder if he will make Lipton?

As I run out of trivialities to ponder over, I find myself reflecting on the real situation at hand. Like the fate of my late-brother. All he ever wanted was what was best for the people; I just can't understand why his death was somehow necessary. I once overheard a commoner mention something along the lines of "Suna needs to start anew, extinguish all traces of the last regime ," but at the time, I didn't think his phrase had a literal meaning. Or maybe I'm just naïve.

I hear the door click, and without looking up, I conclude that Itachi has returned; _with tea_. "Your tea, with two sugars, as requested." Sitting up, I spot the porcelain teacup Itachi had placed the mahogany commode. Removing the cup from it's saucer, for a monument I observe the teacup's elegant design. Red flowers, poinsettias perhaps, dance around the handle, the cup's tip painted a resplendent gold. "How beautiful," Manages to slip through my lips, but Itachi had already gone on to other things, and my words fall into obscurity.

The tea was sweet, just how I like it; and exactly the way it was intended to be. You see, out of all the injustices in the world, the one I find most unsettling is artificial sweeteners. With the advent of Saccharin, people have find various was to substitute sugar in their diets; with stomach churning results. For me, there's nothing better than the real thing, and I wouldn't give up sugar for the 10 calories saved by consuming anti-freeze flavored grain.

As I feel the much-needed caffeine seep into my bloodstream, the energy needed to motivate me to get out of bed awakens. Slipping out of the covers, I slowly let my feet touch the linoleum; cold to the touch. My head is woozy, but I manage to make my way to a door, leading into what I assume to be a powder room. Flicking on the light switch, a fan starts up and hundreds of small, round bulbs illuminate a large, granite-topped vanity. Various toiletries were lined up against the vanity's mirror, ranging from toothpaste to an economy pack of cotton swabs. As I gaze into the mirror, my nigh unrecognizable reflection isn't nearly as important as the large bathtub I spot in the room's opposite end.

I'm taking a bath.

As I slip out of my clothes, I start up the water, making sure it's warm enough for steam to condense on the mirrors. "I need to get clean," I say in my head, letting the mantra repeat infinitely. As the tub fills to near capacity, I turn off the knobs and place a towel on the floor. I wonder if I should lock the door? I had already shut it, out of habit I guess, but would locking it be wise decision? Well, it's obvious this room is occupied, and I highly doubt Itachi, S-ranked criminal and well know anti-socialite; would have the nerve to disturb me. And with an air of confidence I didn't realize resided in-me, I let my body slowly sink into the water, taking in it's aroma of lavender bath-oil.

As my mind drifts into nothingness, only then do I question my location. Where have I been taken? And most importantly, why? Someone obviously went through all the trouble of rescuing me, and for what; I don't want to know. Akatsuki is the most likely scenario, with Itachi involved and all. I wonder what he must think of me, this fugitive of her own people?. That is, if he thinks at all. I've heard the stories, Itachi's mind is far gone as my former life. He _did _attempt genocide on his bloodline, after all. It'd be interesting if his reasons for the massacre were actually legitimate; like the they were planning to destroy Konoha or something. But somehow all of the Uchiha's being guilty seems unlikely. Then again, so was Gaara's downfall.

I soaked in the bath for an hour, possibly two, and by the time I got out my hands had long become pruney. I wonder if anyone is looking for me? Tying my hair back with an elastic, I wrap a towel around my body and step back into the bedroom, which is empty. Itachi must've left. As I step further into the room, water drips from my body onto the floor.

I should find some fresh clothes. A large, regal bureau sat against the wall, and I began rummaging through it's heavy wood drawers.

Aside from an old Reader's Digest and one of those standard issued bibles, I find nothing. Not even a complementary robe. Should I wander? I'm sure I can manage with just this towel, though it is quite chilly in here. Shrugging with indifference, I suppress what little is left of my shame and open the front door, stepping out into the warm, outdoor corridor. I'm in a Motel, of all places.

The small terry towel does little to protect my body from the dry desert heat; one of the most tenacious elements to deal with. Making my way to the adjacent suite, I knock on the door for a good minute; and sure enough, a man answers. Bewildered by my appearance, for a moment he stared blankly at my _finer_ assets. "What? Do I look like a pizza deliverer? Get me some clothes before I shove my Cyd Charisse legs up your ass!" Fearing my wrath, a wise decision, the man quickly tosses a bundle of clothing out into the hall.

Shamelessly dropping the towel, I pick up the clothes and change before his eyes. He'd given me a tee-shirt and jeans- not exactly Haute Couture, but manageable. Finished with getting dressed, I blow the man a playful kiss, leaving the towel on the floor as I walk back towards my, or should I say, Itachi's suite. Though I debate whether suite is a too polished way of describing the motel room. Hole in the wall is more like it.

"Giving the neighbor's a show, I see," Turning around on my heels, a blue man, perhaps he's a member of that entertainment group, blocks my room's entrance. "Sorry you missed it, but they'll be no encores," I tease, with obvious sarcasm. "Har, Har; but I don't fool 'around with Itachi's girl," The blue man answers; with all honesty.

Grr..., someone's in for it... "Itachi's girl? Oh, so I'm a possession now? What is this, the Middle Ages? Who the hell are you, anyway?" Rage spills out of me, vicious thoughts cross my mind, things better left unsaid. Taking a step back, the blue man reveals a rather intimidating looking sword; while closing his windbreaker. He's an Akatsuki. Bah, I should have guessed; anyone familiar with Vogue can spot that fashion-faux pas a mile away.

"Well, Itachi saved you. That'd make you in debt, no? Debt to him, and Akatsuki. Which means I have all the right to finish what you've started..." His sword levitates, and I take a step backwards. He wouldn't kill me, would he? "Blue...person; you see, I wasn't trying to kill myself then, it wasn't a 'for-real' suicide thing, it was more of a 'cry for help' thing, you know?" His face remains stoic, and the sword moves dangerously closer. "No, I don't. And it's Kisame-sempai, address your elders correctly."

Oh shit. I should do something. Fight? No, I don't have any weapons. Not even a freak-'in nail file. Or a ballpoint pen, or whatever paraphernalia currently deemed dangerous at air-ports. Wait, I do have shoes...sandals; you get the gist.

Silently unbuckling my right sandal, luckily I've graduated from noisy Velcro; with a shift kick the footwear goes flying, distracting the Akatsuki. Making a lopsided get-away, I run down the metal steps leading to the lobby, but I unfortunately trip.

This is gonna hurt... Closing my eyes, I wait for an inevitable impact with asphalt; but non-such thing happens. Damn, maybe I grew wings or something. Or could that something be...

Slowly cracking open my eye-lids, right before left, I find myself in the arms of a red-eyed man, Itachi. Talk about cliches...

"So, can I have my sandal back?"

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	3. Anarchy in Suna

Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of the copyrighted things I mentioned in this fic, or the quote (obviously)

_Support makes me happy_

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**Chapter Three: Anarchy in the Sand Village**

"_Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. " - _Robert A. Heinlein; Starship Troopers

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Walking through the forlorn streets of Suna; my gaze averts to the propaganda posters that seem to take up every square inch of public works. I guess the revolution really _has _kicked into full swing. Shrugging, I disregard the images for the time being, instead focusing on Itachi's emaciated figure. Is there a "Please do NOT feed the nuke-nin" sign or something? If I'm around long enough, perhaps I'll intervene on his diet; - and I mean lack-of. 

As I continue to follow the two down the main cobblestone road, I try to piece together Akatsuki's plan. It seems they have gathered here under the guise of nightfall in hopes of retrieving some invaluable scroll. Honestly, I've yet to figure out my place in this scheme, other than being relentless eye-candy. "Girl, come with me," the blue one, I mean _Kisame, _orders. Oh, so I'm just a girl now? I have a name, you know. If this had been any other situation, I'd retort; but right now I'd rather not have any hostile interactions with sharkman's sword.

"I'll come - if you tell me why I'm involved in all of this." Stopping, Kisame turns around and lets out a husky laugh. "Don't play innocent; after all, the answer is quite obvious." Obvious!? I have better change at figuring out the lotto numbers. "You're over-estimating her, Kisame-san," Itachi states, his voice low and raspy. Oh, and now I'm too stupid to understand? This charade is growing old quite fast. "Look, if you won't start talking, I'll just go turn myself in. Maybe, just maybe, they'll give me a chance." Ignoring my threat, their apathetic behavior continues. You know, if we didn't have bathroom breaks; I'd just assume they're both not-human.

"Mari-sama, it's been so long," Wait, no-one calls me that, except... Surveying the cul-de-sac, my eyes light up as I come face to face with _him. _"Sensei!" Rushing to his side, I wrap my arms around Sensei; pulling him into a tight embrace. Perhaps he'll provide me with the answers I'm looking for.

"Temari, that's enough," Sensei backs away; his demeanor uncharacteristically harsh. Turning around, he glares at Itachi, Sensei's eyes narrowing to mere slits. "So it's true, Temari has joined up with Akatsuki," Itachi doesn't respond to Sensei's statement; but it's not totally unlike him. Itachi seems to revel in utter silence.

"Perhaps I've been mis-informed, but I don't remember coming to any terms with Akatsuki. They may have saved my life, but I'm not about to go all 'Stockholm Syndrome' or something." Sensei shakes his head, in apparent disagreement. "Mari-sama, you've always had been the strongest willed out of all my students. Unfortunately, you'd be a fool not to follow these men. Change is in the air, my dear; the violence is unavoidable."

You know how celebrities endorse products for commercials? - 'Oh, so and so uses this shampoo, so it_ must_ be good.' Well right now, I feel like I've fallen for the same type of psychological trap. Except, instead of some A-list star, it's my former Sensei; the one adult influence I blindly look up to.

"What's going on?" The question manages to slip my lips; with an urgent tone that manages to surprise even Akatsuki. "Mari-sama..." Sensei begins, but much to everyone's innate horror, Itachi interrupts. "Let me answer this one. Temari-san, open your eyes. Can you see it? It's anarchy." Well, that adequately supplied me with _zero_ answers. Gee, I should just go 'Ask Jeeves' or something.

"The 'firemen' have already decimated Suna's national archives, fortunately members of the resistance seized these scrolls while they had the change. I trust that Akatsuki will keep it's end of the bargin?" Kisame and Itachi both bow in respect. "We wouldn't think of anything other."

Is this some sick form of irony? I try to kill myself, only to wake up some freak'in _Farenheight_'ish _1984_'esque world. Though I have to admit, this doesn't really fit my description of hell. Eh, maybe it's purgatory lacking the fluffy clouds. Gazing at Itachi, if I stare closely enough, I can spot him mumbling under his breath. Well, at least when he's around I'm able to validate my own sanity. Which is kind-of pathetic on my part.

"You're sallow," - speaking of the devil. "We'll be in the countryside by sunrise. While we're there, please eat." Hn, he's the one that should be seeing a nutritionist. Better get a second opinion. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the butter-knife I had swipe from the hotel. Gazing at my reflection, I realize Itachi is absolutely right. My completion is frightening. Eh, I bet it's just from stress; though you can't entirely rule out the last rest-stop's toilet seat.

"Temari-san, would you prefer to be left behind?" Kisame jests. "If circumstances permitted, I'd say yes." Rolling his eyes, he turns around; and I get a full view of his sword. I've only seen him use it once, and I've come to the conclusion that it works like a giant 'Daisy' disposable razor. Slowly shaving it's victims. Do you think it leaves stubble? "If I wasn't a mature adult, I assume you find this little 'misadventure' quite enjoyable," he continues. Quickly glancing at Itachi's rear, I can't help but smile.

"Oh, in more ways than you can imagine."


End file.
